


Star Wars + Enneagram

by obirain



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Album: Atlas: Enneagram (Sleeping at Last), Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28516755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obirain/pseuds/obirain
Summary: A series of ficlets derived from Star Wars characters' enneagram types (in my opinion) and their corresponding Sleeping at Last songs.





	Star Wars + Enneagram

_“Maybe I’ve done enough,  
And your golden child grew up.  
Maybe this trophy isn’t real love,  
And with or without it I’m good enough.”_

* * *

Anakin was supposed to be meditating for the “most important day of his life.” Was he? Of course not. 

Not for lack of trying. In just a few hours (maybe minutes; he honestly couldn’t tell) he’d be summoned. He’d be knighted. He’d be free to go about his merry way, back into the war that raged just beyond this corner of fake peace. He’d heard of Masters knighting their Padawans out in the field. This was usually out of necessity, of course, but Anakin would have preferred a few rushed niceties in a war zone than the “honor” of a proper ceremony. There he could _move,_ _shout, do._ The Preparation Chamber was too small and too dark for his liking. Perhaps the old Masters had thought it would put their Padawans at ease. But Anakin only felt claustrophobic and tired, and alone—he was very alone here. 

His thoughts drifted to Padmé . She’d been so excited for him; surely she was thinking about him right now. Anakin tried to reach out to her in the Force, tried to conjure her soothing presence in a last ditch effort to quiet his mind. Nothing. The depths of the Force remained decidedly distant and cold. So Anakin gave up meditating entirely only to find his unrestrained thoughts were _almost_ worse than the botched meditation. “Thoughts” was a stretch, really. He was sliding into fixation. He replayed his last conversation over and over and over again. What was he looking for, exactly? He couldn’t say. But something in him was straining to find it, whether he liked it or not, buried somewhere in a knot of unspoken words…

_“This is your last night as a Padawan, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said as they climbed to the heart of the Tranquility Spire. “When you leave this tower, you’ll be a fully-fledged Knight of the Republic. How does it feel?”_

_“Like any other night, Master,” Anakin smirked. It was a lie; he hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. For years he’d fantasized about this very moment. So certain he was ready, so certain his Master was holding him back. And now Obi-Wan was escorting him up to the Preparation Chamber like a parent dropping off a child for his first day of school…_

_Anakin would make a frighteningly enormous child. He’d sprouted in the past few years and passed Obi-Wan easily—and he certainly didn’t mind teasing him about it. But today he felt smaller than he ever had. What was the point of becoming a Knight, of being the best pilot in the Order, of fighting Sith lords and living to tell the tale, when on the inside he was nothing but a little boy from Tatooine? A wicked smart, headstrong,_ terrified _little boy who’d been adopted into the Jedi just to lose his Master anyway. And here he was, ten years later. About to do it again._

_Kriff, what was wrong with him? This was everything he’d worked for: the Council had finally managed to see his potential after years of keeping him on a leash. He’d come too far to falter now._

_“Something troubling you, Padawan?”  
_

_Anakin blinked and shook his head, barely hearing the question. “Nothing, Master.”_

_Obi-Wan glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “You’re sure?”_

_“Yes, Master.” Anakin swallowed audibly. He noticed his hands were shaking. “Master, I—I know I haven’t been the… the easiest of Padawans…” What was this? Stumbling over his words like a child? But the words kept coming, far too quickly for him to put a stop to it. “I’ve disobeyed you, and disrespected you, and probably the entire Order, but—” he stopped short and flushed. “—but I have always_ tried, _Master.”_

_They slowed to a stop; the Chamber where Anakin was to spend the night lay just a few feet off. The door was low, narrow, menacing, even. Anakin eyed it eagerly but with a flicker of forbidden fear. He caught a faint whiff of old incense. No doubt it was somehow symbolically significant—something about the Padawan’s journey, something about the Force, Jedi business—but for Anakin it only fouled up perfectly fine air. He scrunched his nose and turned to face his Master._

_Obi-Wan was watching him evenly; a hint of a sad smile played at the corners of his bright eyes. Something in them flickered; maybe it was just the dim lamplight, but it was always hard to tell with him. He laid both hands on Anakin’s shoulders, a bit awkward given the difference in height but paternal and comforting all the same._

_“_ I know _, Anakin.” He spoke softly as he often did when Anakin was struggling. But here in the dead silence of the Spire, his voice rang loud as blaster fire.  
_

_“There’s no such thing as as an easy Padawan, just as there’s no such thing as a perfect Master. Maker knows, I haven’t been perfect to you by any stretch of the word. But_ you, _Anakin, have never fallen short of my expectations for you. Qui-Gon would be proud. And so am I,” he added quietly. “At any rate, I won’t have you begin the most important day of your life thinking you’re a disappointment. Not to me, not to the Order—least of all to yourself.”_

_Silence followed. Anakin had expected Obi-Wan’s praise to fall like music on his ears. Skilled as he was with words, Obi-Wan wasn’t effusive by any means. Certain as he was of himself, Anakin craved his praise like water. And now he had it, but he wasn’t sure how to respond. Warmth bloomed in his chest but defied coherent words, a blur of heat and color and pride. So he settled for_ “Thank you, Master,” _and hoped to the stars that Obi-Wan understood._

_And perhaps he did. Obi-Wan grinned, without any nostalgic sadness this time. He gave Anakin a firm, final pat on the shoulder before lowering his arms and crossing them the way he always did. “Not for long, young one. When you emerge, we will be brothers.”_

*** * ***

Anakin was summoned to the Hall of Knighthood. The room was silent and hardly brighter than the Chamber, but all the Masters standing in a circle with all their sabers ignited—it was more than his eyes had bargained for. He flinched and squinted. Not a very stately entrance, he had to admit. But his eyes adjusted quickly. And as they lowered their sabers in salute, the moment finally sank in.

This was a celebration, in the Jedi’s own somber way. All these mighty men and women had gathered here for one purpose: to honor him, to corporately admit his skill and importance to the Order. This was no time for simple-minded fear. 

Master Yoda was speaking, but the words didn’t make much of an impression. They were stuffy, academic, altogether very Jedi-like. But with each one he felt his confidence revive like a krayt dragon emerging from its canyon. The little boy from Tatooine melted away into submission. A red-blooded man, a warrior of unparalleled strength, the protector of the galaxy and keeper of the peace— _he_ took his place.

Yoda flourished his saber, and it was over. Anakin’s braid fell lifelessly to the marbled floor. He took it and smiled, noting its weight in his palm, its texture against his skin, the coolness of the beads woven into the tight plait, searing it all into his memory before he’d leave it behind forever. He’d bring it to Padmé, first—as soon as he could get out of the Temple. Maybe they’d be able to have a rare, quiet night together. He’d certainly earned it.

But as he stood to walk away, trying not to be too obvious, he caught Obi-Wan’s eye. His hood was up, his face illuminated only by the steady blue of his lightsaber. His eyes seemed to glow. The moment was short—just enough time for Anakin to nod respectfully, and for Obi-Wan to smile. _Brothers._

Just a second later, Anakin was beyond the Masters’ circle. They would follow him out soon enough. But for now, he was alone, and as he descended the stairs in silence he couldn’t help but think: _yes, he’s done enough._


End file.
